dimanche 13 avril 2014

Letters from the Northern Lands

22.07.XXXX

My
Love

We
have arrived on the islands. After a short night and a day of travel,
we reached the mountains in the sea. The sun came to greet us for the
first time in a week, and as its golden light shone down on us the
gloom that had crept into our minds vanished in one glorious blast of
fire. Our spirits rose, and the lingering shadows of doubt fled
before our radiant joy.

Oh,
to see the sun again. To bask in its warm glow, the freezing cold of
moments prior just a fleeting memory, soon to be forgotten. To shower
in its golden light, and feel our hearts begin to beat again. I had
forgotten what a miracle it was, the sun.

Our
mood at its peak, we trekked along the mountainsides, no fear of the
unknown left in our chest. We went to fish again, laughing merrily,
as we watched the seagulls swallow whole the waste of our catch.
Gazing upon the jagged shoreline, interspersed with peaks rising from
the ocean depths, we saw the moon rise, pale at first, then in full
glory. Basked in the dim light of dawn and dusk (there is a mere hour
between the two where we are now), the landscape left us speechless.
It was as if someone had filled up the vales and valleys of a
gigantic mountain-range with water. Even as I try to describe it, I
know my words can be no more than a pale echo of the beauty I now
behold.

Talking
softly, rocked by the gentle tunes of the sea, we could but wonder
why men would give up these lands to go live in the unforgiving grey
of modern cities. Forgotten was the cold, the rain, the sleepless
nights. Only wonder remained, wonder of what we saw, and wonder at
those who did not care, did not dare to see the same. Even the
mosquitos now seemed friendly and tame, a small, gentle reminder that
nothing was without its due.

As
I sit here on my rocky outcrop, watching the ocean stretch before me,
I feel at peace. I feel at peace like I had not for a long time.